"to love life, to love it even- Ellen Bass (via feellng)
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again."
Somewhere between the buzz of Indian Summer locusts and the deafening silence of new fallen snow is a fleeting, exhilarating bliss known as Autumn. It arrives in radiant splendour, summoning our primal urges to feather our nests. The aroma of tea and soup is more enticing and we find a hundred ways to savour an apple. Cords of seasoned hickory are stacked outside in anticipation of a roaring hearth as we greet the longer nights with cosy bedclothes. The moon demands more attention, luring us into a state of Halloween lunacy. Masquerade and ghost stories appease our hunger for intrigue. We stock up on candles, sensing the dramatic excitement that rivals the energy of those scurrying bushy tails.
— Randy and Melissa Rolston.